User blog:Katwolfie/More Wolf OC's
Making OCs are fun. So, the song "Big Shot" by Billy Joel has been majorly bothering me. And I was like, "MAKE A WOLF-OC FOR IT, KAT." So then I was all, "BLAH BLAH BLAH, WENT CRAZY FOR NO REASON SO HE'S A BIG SHOT YEAHHHH." But, you know, that was stupid! It possesses no feeling. It was robotic for the sake of fitting in. So I was singing it randomly, then had a good idea. Someone who was not seemingly a "Big Shot," just taken over by pure stupidity and turning it for the worst. Afterwards, I was just thinking...what if all OCs tied into the same story or pack? Then, once I'm ready, I could make it a functioning story. For now, you get a picture and writing later. 'The 'Story, "Big Shot" He left early morning, His tail swishing and high. His eyes said it all, but still, he told me, “Son, I will not die. For your father is stronger than the oak His teeth are as sharp as blades His eyes are as keen as those of a hawk His moves are as fast as the rushing wind His frame is as sturdy as the mountain of which we reside His thoughts are as intelligent as the wisest elder And his love is as big to fill your whole heart.” “Well,” says I “Your son is as healthy as a fresh fruit, Despite what everyone else seems to say Your son is as blind as a bat, But that does not leave him without your love. Your son has one disfigured paw, But that does not leave him without your love. Your son is as sick as an old, dying tree, But that does not leave him without your love. Your son is as weak as the slimmest branch, But that does not leave him without your love. Your son is as skittish as a sugar-filled squirrel, But that does not leave him without your love. Without the heart in his chest, Warmed with only his father’s adoration and friendship, Your son would be nothing.” Father tipped his head, Eyes glossed with happy, flowing tears, Chest welling with pride of his son’s wisdom and humility. He left for the quest in the ever-changing wilderness. There were many at the border But that did not stop him. They talked of peace, but Father was blinded by his power That his son and he himself had spoken of And his strength, that of an oak Pushed through the group. His teeth, that of blades Sunk into loose skin. His eyes, that of a hawk Could not see the number of foes. His moves, that of a rushing wind, Could not dodge those of his adversaries. His frame, as sturdy as the mountain by which he resided Was slowly being torn apart. His thoughts, that of the wisest elder Began to melt away like snow in springtime. And his love, which could fill his son’s whole heart Rested with him. Category:Blog posts